


The Spaces That Divide Us

by NovelistAngel23



Series: Superposition [3]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: (they gettin married yall), Adulthood, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing, Cultural Differences, Established Relationship, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route Spoilers, Found Family, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Long-Distance Relationship, Minor Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth, Multi, Overworking, POV Alternating, Post-War, Reconciliation, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 12:29:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20907680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NovelistAngel23/pseuds/NovelistAngel23
Summary: It's kind of hard to figure out what you want out of a relationship in the middle of a war. But what about after?Five years after the fall of Enbarr, Ashe and Dedue come to terms with the difficulties of adulthood and a long-distance relationship.





	The Spaces That Divide Us

“Ashe, the lady in Room 11 has a complaint,” Alistair called from the reception desk.

Ashe tried not to let his frustration show as he set down a plate of pasta before a customer and said, “Please, enjoy!”

He smiled at their gratitude and then rushed out of the dining room. Business had been booming lately. Every room was booked, people lined up around the block just to get a taste of the food. Even stepping out of the dining room was a struggle, smiling politely and welcoming new guests as he squeezed past them. Ashe supposed he should be grateful for the good business, but lately he’d just been feeling exhausted.

He finally made it to the reception desk, turning his back to the customers as he hissed, “What is she complaining about this time?”

Alistair rolled his pale blue eyes, not caring if anyone saw it. “The bath water was too cold,” he muttered, then showed Ashe the handwritten note she’d left at the desk.

Ashe took the note and read the fluttery handwriting. Alistair had left out a few choice words. He sighed deeply. Despite her near constant complaints, Lady Echellane was one of their most frequent customers. She had some well-to-do family in Gaspard, and they all visited the restaurant once a week. They couldn’t afford to put her in a bad mood, and she knew it.

Ashe sighed and handed the note back to him. “Tell her we apologize for the inconvenience and we’re happy to offer her… uh, I don’t know, free wine?”

Alistair nodded, opening a booklet under his desk and checking something off. “I already set aside a bottle.”

Ashe smiled at that. Since the inn opened, his little brother had always been the one who planned ahead, the one who kept all the details straight. If Ashe could be grateful for anything, it was for him.

He gave him a firm kiss on the temple and patted his shoulder as he hurried back to the kitchen. “Thank you, Alie!”

He squeezed past customers again, looking out over the dining room to be sure everything was running all right. Waiters and waitresses spun around the room, refilling cups, setting down plates, taking orders, cleaning tables. He couldn’t help the swell of pride in his chest at the sight of everyone’s smiling faces. It reminded him of his family’s restaurant before his parents passed away. He only had tiny, vague memories of it, but they were all full of those smiling faces.

He weaved between the tables, greeting every customer as if they were old friends, and made his way into the kitchen. The air was hot and full of spices, the voices of chefs calling through the air. Angela, his sister, walked up and down the kitchen, tasting sauces and advising the newer workers. She grinned when she noticed him walk in.

“Ashey!” she called, waving her hand. “Come here!”

“Angie, please don’t call me that at work,” he muttered as he walked up to her.

She didn’t acknowledge him, spinning around to shove a spoon in his mouth instead. He was grateful the soup it held wasn’t boiling hot, but the flavor wasn’t the best. He grimaced, pulling the spoon out and rolling the flavor around his mouth. “Mm…” She waited with bated breath for his response. “I think it might need a little more cayenne?”

She nodded, a look of determination coming over her face. She had never been the best chef, but Ashe was proud of how quickly she was learning. She’d tried her hand at other things, even a stint at the artisan’s academy in Goneril, but she always came right back to the inn and her brothers.

“Ashey, you look pale,” she said suddenly, taking Ashe out of his thoughts.

She had a rare look of genuine concern on her freckled face, and Ashe frowned as he looked away. “I’m fine,” he insisted. “Don’t worry about me!”

But as he walked away to get back to the dining room, she ordered someone to take over her soup for her and scurried after him. “Angela--”

“I’m not dumb, Ashe,” she said, crossing her arms and walking backwards in front of him. “You’ve been down for months.”

Ashe tried to walk around her, but she blocked his every attempt. Finally he stood still and crossed his arms over his chest. “We’ve been getting busier lately--”

“Oh believe me, I’ve noticed!” She gestured around the kitchen which was dizzyingly busy, people rushing around this way and that, shouting over the racket of cooking. “And you haven’t given yourself a single day off.”

Ashe frowned. He knew she was right. But he was the _ owner _, he couldn’t afford to take a day off. “Angie, you know I can’t--”

“Do I?” She stood up on her tiptoes to look into Ashe’s eyes. “I know you’re just doing this so you don’t have to think about Dedue.”

Ashe froze.

He felt sick to his stomach at just the sound of his name. It had been so long since he last heard from Dedue, and even longer since they last saw each other. Months, at least. Logically, he knew there was a reason--rebuilding Fhirdiad was a struggle that had taken five years so far and would seemingly take even longer. There was just… a lot to do, for a vassal of the king.

Ashe had no right to be upset.

He swallowed hard and said, “I don’t want to talk about this right now. We have a lot to do.”

He pushed past her, deciding he would go upstairs and check in on the guests, but he froze again when she called, “He sent a letter.”

He whipped around, eyes wide. She smiled a little and pulled it out of her dress pocket. It definitely looked like it was from the capital, pure white with silver decor and a pale blue wax seal. He looked from the letter to his sister’s smug face. “Give me that!” he hissed, rushing forward to grab it out of her hands.

She leaned far back to keep it out of his reach. “Ah! Just one second, Ashey! You’ve gotta promise you’ll take the rest of the day off.”

She gave him a meaningful look, and he sighed deeply. “Okay!” he finally agreed, waving his hand for the letter. “Okay, I’ll go home, please, Angie!”

She smiled at length and handed it to him before promptly shoving him out of the kitchen. “Go home! All the way home, not just an empty room here!”

He grimaced. It was a busy day, there were so many customers, and he was sure Lady Echellane would give his younger siblings more trouble--but… He looked down at the letter in his hands. It was clearly addressed to him, Lord Ashe Ubert of House Gaspard, in Dedue’s small, steady handwriting. He smiled fondly at each word. Okay, fine, he could stand to miss _ one _ day of work.

He gathered his stuff from behind the reception desk and gave Alistair a little kiss goodbye before making the journey back to Castle Gaspard. The castle had been mostly rebuilt since the revolt against the Church years before, and Ashe had come to be a good head of household. At least that’s what people told him. He took pride in making sure everything in his territory was running just as well as his inn.

Even though he’d promised to take it easy, he took an hour or two to make sure everything was perfect at home before he sat down to read the letter. He had a long, warm bath, settled any house business that his retainers couldn’t finish without his input. Only when he was sure there was nothing else to do did he curl up in bed and open the letter.

It wasn’t long. Even in writing, Dedue liked to get right to the point, but Ashe still read as fast as he could.

_ Dearest Ashe, _

_ I apologize for my silence. We have had trouble rebuilding Fhirdiad. A rebellion cropped up in the remains of the Empire. I have not yet been sent to battle, but it seems inevitable. I will think of you. _

_ I hope you have been well. Word of the inn has reached even the capital. I am proud of all you have accomplished. I plan to visit soon, but I cannot be sure how long it will be until I am able. Until then, I will pray for your good health. _

_ Yours, _

_ Dedue Molinaro _

Ashe frowned as he reached the end. There was a little symbol of the Crest of Blaiddyd, and then nothing. He flipped it over, reread again. Still nothing more appeared. Only a vague promise to visit and a prayer.

Ashe hated that he cried when he was frustrated, but he could feel the tears burning the corners of his eyes. He set the letter aside and pinched the bridge of his nose. He shouldn’t cry, there was no need to be frustrated.

But he couldn’t help it. He pulled his knees up to his chest and let a few tears fall. It ached in his throat. He just missed Dedue so much. He’d known that after the war ended Dedue would be busy working for Dimitri as his right hand man. Of course he’d known that!

They’d started dating the day after they stormed Enbarr, and Dedue had told him he’d remain in Fhirdiad, serving under Dimitri. For the first year or so that was fine. Dedue visited once a month, and even though it was hard, they’d made it work.

But it’d been five years now, and Dedue visited so rarely, always busy with something or other. Rebuilding, rebellions, diplomatic journeys.

And Ashe was just stuck there in Gaspard, running his inn and waiting like a princess in a tower from those old fairytale books he loved so much.

Once the sobbing started, he couldn’t stop it. He curled up in a tiny little ball and cried and cried. He always felt guilty remembering that promise they’d made to be together forever. Standing in the Goddess tower, feeling her power washing through them. They’d _ promised _.

But what was the point if they weren’t together? They hadn’t even said I love you to each other yet.

It wasn’t the first time Ashe had cried about it. He knew he just needed to get the feelings out, and then he would feel better. After a few minutes, he sniffled hard and wiped at his eyes and carefully put the letter away. Back in its envelope, a little crumpled from being held so tightly, and he tossed it in a drawer full of similar letters.

The night was still young, but he’d promised Angela he wouldn’t go back to work, so he busied himself around the castle instead. He knew the people they’d hired to keep the place well-kept wouldn’t mind a little help.

Only one or two people gasped when they saw him working, asking, “Are you sure, my Lord? You look unwell!”

He just smiled and said, “I’m happy to help. Don’t worry about me.”

And if he had a bit of a cough by the time he finally collapsed into bed, well, he was sure it would go away by morning.

* * *

Dedue found it hard to keep his eyes open during strategy meetings. He’d taken measures to combat his exhaustion. He stood behind Dimitri’s chair rather than taking any seat that was offered to him. He focused on every word that was spoken, determined not to miss any information.

But some days were more difficult than others.

This meeting was as boring as he’d expected it to be. Little more than Dimitri adding tedious tasks to his ever growing list. The orphanage had fallen into disrepair; the rebellion threatening the outskirts of the Kingdom needed to be quelled sooner rather than later; the Church had offered support but with the new school year starting, it was unlikely they’d be able to spare much in the way of troops. Dimitri seemed just as exhausted as Dedue felt.

In a moment of weakness, Dedue glanced out one of the windows. The sun had already begun to set, and the burgundy red light that fell across the room was comforting. It reminded him of a sunset in Duscur. He couldn’t help searching the mountains far beyond the walls of Fhirdiad. He knew those were the Oghma Mountains, and that they bordered the Gaspard region, which Ashe now watched over.

Ashe.

Just the thought of him brought a tired smile to his face. It had been far too long since they last saw each other. He wondered if he’d changed at all in those months they’d been apart. He recalled he’d been growing out his hair some. Perhaps it was long enough to put up now?

“Dedue?”

Dimitri’s voice caused Dedue to jolt in surprise, turning to him and bowing. “Your Majesty.”

Dimitri frowned, concern written all over his face. Now that Dedue was paying attention he could see the meeting had ended, and they were the only ones left in the meeting room. “You look exhausted,” Dimitri sighed. He rose to his feet, carefully putting his papers together. “When was the last time you took a day off?”

Dedue was used to this line of questioning. He was honored the King cared for his well-being, but he had more than enough to worry about. “The last time I took a day off was the last time you took a day off,” he said simply.

Dimitri’s cheeks went red at the words. Dedue hid a satisfied smile. Ignoring his smugness, Dimitri put his papers under one arm and muttered, “Please accompany me.”

Dedue gladly followed him out of the meeting room. They passed through a hallway lined with portraits of Dimitri’s ancestors--from the legendary King Loog Ashe had once told Dedue about with stars in his eyes, to Dimitri’s late father King Lambert. Dimitri didn’t look at any of them.

As they came down the stairs, heading towards Dimitri’s personal office, he looked at Dedue with a smile. “You know, you should take better care of yourself,” he scolded, though there was a fondness to his voice. “You won’t be of much use to me if you fall ill.”

Dedue inclined his head in agreement. He was right. If Dedue were to develop an illness, he would be a liability in Dimitri’s daily work. Even so, there was so much work to do that he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving it all to Dimitri. It took a lot of convincing for him to even retire to his quarters at the end of the day.

Dimitri didn’t seem to take his nod as enough of an answer though. He raised an incredulous eyebrow at Dedue, turning to him at the foot of the stairs. “Dedue… You haven’t visited Ashe in some time.”

Dedue took a sharp breath through his nose at the words. Yes, it was true, they had been apart for a long time. But they’d known they would have periods like this when they decided to be together. It was a sacrifice they both had to make. Dedue had his duty to fulfill, and Ashe’s hands were full caring for his inn and his land.

All this for him to sigh and say, “Yes, Your Majesty.”

Dimitri frowned at him, turning away again to head down the hall towards his office. “Now, Dedue, you know that I of all people understand how difficult it is to keep a relationship working long distance.”

Dedue had to admit he did. It was no secret Dimitri and the woman they’d all once called Professor were deeply in love. With her taking on the mantle of Archbishop of the Church of Seiros and Dimitri leading as King of Faerghus, they both had precious little time to spare for each other. Even so, Dimitri often received letters that made him smile like a giddy child as he read them--and he often closed letters with a kiss against the wax seal before sending them off.

“Your duties to me should really come second to--”

“No,” Dedue said, making Dimitri pause and turn to him. Dedue shook his head. “Your Majesty, you are my duty. My duty takes priority--”

“Over the man you’re in love with?” Dimitri gasped.

It was only then Dedue realized how awful that sounded. Of course, Ashe should take priority in his life. His well-being was always at the forefront of his mind but…

Dimitri sighed at him, opening the door to his office and gesturing for Dedue to step inside. He did so, head lowered like a child scolded. Once the door was safely shut behind them, Dimitri raised his hands as if trying to calm a wounded animal. “Now, I won’t presume to know more about your relationship than you do, but not visiting your lover for such a long time is simply unacceptable.”

Dedue knew he was right. It wasn’t as if he’d chosen to stay away. Time had simply slipped away from him. He even forgot to write now and then.

Dimitri didn’t stop there though. He set his papers down and dug into a drawer at his desk. “I didn’t mean to start scolding you,” he sighed, pulling out a letter that looked far more regal than most of his letters did. Along with the silver filigree and Blaiddyd Crest on the wax seal, there was another crest in a soft, pale green. The Crest of Flames. “I actually just wanted to uh, ask a favor of you.”

Dedue took the letter as it was handed to him. He saw in Dimitri’s messy cursive, Ashe’s name written across the bottom. He trailed his thumb along the curves of his name. “A letter, Your Majesty?”

Dimitri nodded. “Well, it’s not just _ any _ letter.” He stood a little straighter, and Dedue didn’t miss the pinkness on his cheeks. “It’s a… a wedding invitation.”

Dedue’s eyes widened in surprise. “A wedding?”

Dimitri’s smile grew along with his blush. “I recently asked Byleth to marry me. We’ve decided to have the wedding as soon as possible, and I thought I’d invite all of our old classmates.” He gestured to the letter. “Who better to deliver Ashe’s invitation than his lover?”

For a long moment, Dedue was silent, and Dimitri started to twitch with impatience. “Well?” he asked, his voice quieter than before.

Dedue looked up at him from the letter. He knew he should be excited for his friend, excited for an excuse to see Ashe, but he only felt a strange discontentment in the pit of his stomach. A kind of longing he’d never considered before.

There were some Fodlan traditions he still wasn’t used to--the exchange of rings, the formal wedding ceremonies. In Duscur, weddings were wild, passionate things. Even the proposal was a long affair, with homemade dinner, an exchange of gifts. The whole family came together to witness the momentous occasion, and there would be dancing and singing all night long.

He wondered… which Ashe would prefer. If he were to choose.

“Oh… Dedue you’re blushing.”

Dedue glanced up from the letter again, finding Dimitri smirking at him as if he knew every thought going through his head. “So, I take it you will be delivering the letter?”

Dedue took a deep breath and inclined his head. “Yes, Your Majesty. I shall retire to my room now.”

It was the first time he’d excused himself, but if Dimitri’s delighted laugh was any indication, he didn’t seem to mind.

* * *

Ashe was definitely sick. His head ached and his nose was stuffy, throat sore. He felt hot and cold, dizzy and exhausted.

But even so he walked into the inn ready to go to work.

Alistair grimaced as he came in, tying his hair back from his face and stifling a cough. “You’re sick,” he said, and Ashe smiled wryly at him.

“What gave it away?” he asked, his voice as stuffed up as his nose.

Alistair set his pen back into its ink well and crossed his arms. “Ashe, go home.”

Ashe shook his head, pulling his scarf around his neck a little tighter. It was a gift from Dedue, a year or so ago. It had a Duscur design on either end, and somehow it was always perfectly warm. It was the only thing keeping him from trembling like a leaf, anyway. “I’m not going home,” he said simply. He waved his hand dismissively. “I won’t do anything with the food, don’t worry--”

“It’s still a health hazard--”

“Alie--”

“Ashe, you’ve been working yourself sick for the past week,” Alistair snapped, making Ashe turn to him with wide eyes. “You need to go home before you kill yourself.”

Ashe nearly shrank at the words. He knew Alistair was right. Ever since he’d gotten that letter from Dedue, he’d been working day in and day out to keep himself from moping. From thinking about it. From missing him.

It worked, as long as he was doing something. But the moment he stopped, all the feelings came right back.

No wonder his head hurt so much.

He didn’t want to cry, so he tilted his head back. A long time ago, Ingrid had taught him to do that, every time the tears wanted to fall. It usually worked, even this time. “Alistair… Please. Just let me work for an hour, okay?”

He lowered his chin to look at his little brother. Normally he looked so serious, but there was a bit of softness in his round face now. He pulled his pen out from its well and tapped off the excess ink. “An hour. We still haven’t opened yet, so you can set up the dining room. But wash your hands first!”

Ashe grinned and nodded, rushing to get started. Deep down, he felt a little guilty. He was supposed to be the older brother, the responsible one, but here he was, sacrificing his health for a little peace of mind and begging his little brother for leniency. What kind of older brother was he?

But the moment he got to work, the thoughts flooded away. It was all just moving tables, taking down chairs. The rest of the staff came in, waving hello to Ashe or telling them about their latest news. One of the cooks had just had a baby daughter, another had family visiting all the way from the former Empire. One had gotten engaged, and Ashe couldn’t help a little tinge of jealousy as he admired her ring.

Ashe cleaned tables, ignoring how the monotony of the work made his head blur painfully. He didn’t even notice someone calling his name until their hand clapped down on his shoulder. He whipped around to see Angela staring at him with a desperate expression on her face. She smiled, but her eyes were wide, and she jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “Ashe, there’s _ someone _ here to see you.”

Ashe blinked rapidly at her, struggling to clear his head. Someone… to see him? He tried to run down who it could be as he nodded and set his cleaning rag aside. Had Lady Echellane come down with another excuse? Was there a messenger? Maybe one of his retainers had an issue that needed resolving.

But as he stepped into the reception room, he gasped at the sight of Dedue standing there.

He was glad he wasn’t holding anything, because his hands trembled so hard he was sure he would have dropped it. Dedue was actually there, standing in the middle of the room, unannounced. He smiled that small smile he always did, the one that made every part of Ashe feel warm and wanted. That small smile that had always felt reserved for him, a gift.

“Dedue,” he breathed, and Dedue’s smile widened as he stepped towards Ashe.

Ashe knew he should’ve been happy. He should’ve been ecstatic. Some part of him wanted to throw himself into Dedue’s arms and kiss him until they were both breathless, and tell him every little detail of his life since they’d been apart. He’d take the day off, and they’d just laze about in bed, talking and reminiscing and whispering sweet nothings to each other--or other things one could do in a bed.

But he didn’t.

He smiled though when Dedue came forward and hugged him. And he reveled in the warmth of Dedue’s chest against his cheek. He was happy, seeing him again and being near him. He wanted to bask in it, but a bitterness in his throat made him pull away far too soon.

He sniffled hard, though his nose was far too stuffed for it to feel relieving. “Y-you shouldn’t touch me,” he muttered, stepping back from Dedue. “Not feeling very well.”

Dedue’s brow furrowed with concern. He stepped towards Ashe, and when he spoke, it made every part of Ashe light up with joy. Just his voice, just the sound of his voice… Goddess, Ashe had missed it so much. “Are you all right? Perhaps you should go home and rest.”

Ashe waved his hand at Dedue, turning back towards the dining room. “No, it’s okay,” he insisted.

He walked back to where he’d left his rag and got to wiping down the tables again. This time he wasn’t patient. He put all of his energy into it, his shoulder aching from the force. That shoulder still hurt every now and then, when he wasn’t careful, a remnant from the war.

Dedue followed behind him, and Ashe could feel the disappointment in his voice. He felt so guilty at the sound of it. “Are you sure? You don’t seem well.”

Through gritted teeth, Ashe said, “I’m sure. There’s a lot to do before we open, so--”

“Surely your staff can handle it?”

Ashe whipped around to him, but he didn’t know what to say when they were facing each other. This wasn’t how Dedue had expected to be greeted. He was sure of it. Ashe looked away, trying to force back his tears again. Why couldn’t he just be a good boyfriend? Why couldn’t he just hug Dedue and kiss him and make this an enjoyable visit? Who knew when they would see each other next?

Maybe that was why he couldn’t. He didn’t know. And that made him angry.

He whipped back around, even though the movement made him dizzy, even though his head panged painfully as if someone had smashed two pots against each other right beside his ear. He wobbled on his feet, but when Dedue reached out to catch him, he pushed his hand off. “I’m fine,” he insisted again. “I’m fine, I’ll… I’ll just…”

But he wasn’t fine. He stumbled again, the ache filling every bit of his head. This time when Dedue reached out to catch him, he didn’t have the energy to stop him, because his vision went black as Dedue’s arms wrapped around his waist.

* * *

Ashe looked so vulnerable while he slept. Laid up in bed, with the blanket pulled to his chin, and a wet cloth over his forehead. Dedue couldn’t stop staring at him, holding his thin, weak hand between his own. His skin felt so hot, even though he was shivering as if the cold Faerghus winter was raging on inside his body.

Sweat beaded on his face, teeth chattering even while he slept. Dedue reached out one hand to brush some hair off his cheek where it had stuck with sweat.

“Is he okay?”

Dedue glanced up at the doorway. Angela, Ashe’s younger sister, stood with a pile of blankets in her arms. She looked much like Ashe, sharing the same freckles, pale skin, green eyes. That was where the similarities ended. Her hair was a shade or two darker and much curlier, and she was rounder around the middle. Usually, she even acted very little like her brother, so rambunctious and loud.

Now however, she seemed more like him than ever, subdued as she walked up and set the blankets on the foot of the bed. “I told him he was sick, but he’s so stubborn…”

Dedue nodded, looking back down at Ashe breathing shallowly. It seemed bad, but Dedue had been around plagues and death. Visiting the hospital alongside Dimitri, where the old and infirm came to live their last days. Ashe didn’t look anything like that. Even though he was pale and weak, there was a rosiness to his cheeks and a strength to his breath that told Dedue he would recover.

“He will be fine,” Dedue said.

Angela sat on the edge of the bed next to Ashe and Dedue. “He’s always been like that you know… Working himself half to death because he thinks he’s gotta prove himself.” She rolled her eyes, and Dedue couldn’t help but smile. She reminded him dearly of his sister from so long ago.

“He is a hard worker,” Dedue admitted.

He knew he should let go of Ashe’s hand eventually, but he couldn’t bring himself to. He rubbed Ashe’s bony knuckles with his thumb, felt the calluses in the middle of his fingers--never quite healed from his days as an archer during the war.

“Yeah, but… This time, I think he was just doing it because he missed you.”

Dedue froze at that, his hands squeezing Ashe’s. It hurt. He didn’t want to be the cause of any of Ashe’s pain, ever. And yet, sometimes it seemed that was all he was capable of.

“Anyway… I should get back to the inn. I’m kinda head chef when Ashe isn’t around so.” She rose to her feet and Dedue felt her hand on his shoulder. It was thicker than Ashe’s but just as small. “Take care of him, okay? He really loves you.”

Dedue frowned as she left. Love. They still hadn’t told each other that yet, had they? The thought filled him with regret. He’d been struggling to make up for that mistake of his past, forgetting to tell his mother the one thing he’d hoped she would remember…

And yet after five years he still hadn’t said as much to the man he loved. Somehow, the words could never leave him. The way they touched and kissed and held each other seemed meaningful enough. He’d never been able to say it, but he hoped Ashe had felt it every moment they spent together, however few and far between those moments were.

As he thought this, he felt the barest wiggle from between his palms. He glanced down at Ashe, his eyes fluttering open, hazy with fever and sleep. “Dedue…?” he mumbled, turning his head towards him. “You’re… here…”

The words ached in Dedue’s chest. Of course he was there. He pulled one hand from Ashe’s to brush his knuckles lightly against Ashe’s clammy cheek. “Yes, little one, I’m here.”

Ashe hummed, closed his eyes as he leaned his cheek more fully into Dedue’s touch. “‘S been… too long…”

Dedue nodded. He knew it to be true. He tried to think back to the last time they were together. About a week, four or five months ago. He remembered Ashe’s bright smile, remembered Ashe excitedly showing him around Gaspard. He remembered how everyone smiled at Ashe, greeted him like an old friend. Whether they knew him as the owner of the lovely inn that served Duscur-inspired cuisine, or as the benevolent young lord of House Gaspard, everyone loved him.

It made Dedue so proud. How honored he was to even stand beside him.

“My apologies,” Dedue whispered. “I’ve been too busy…”

Ashe’s lips twisted to the side and his eyes fluttered open again. Despite his frail and sick appearance, when he leveled Dedue with those mint green eyes and pulled the cloth from his forehead, he was beautiful. His hair had grown longer, splayed out on the pillow around his face, and he still had that precious little freckle under the corner of his lips. Dedue was always taken aback by just how beautiful Ashe was. A child of Sothis, he’d once called him. A pinprick of light.

Ashe sat up, and Dedue furrowed his brow, reaching out to lay him back down. “I’m fine,” Ashe assured, though he didn’t sound that way. He waved off Dedue’s touch, crawling out of bed on shaky legs. “When did I get changed?” he asked, pulling his robe tighter around him.

“Angela,” Dedue explained, rising to his feet to follow as Ashe stumbled towards the door. “Ashe, please--”

“Dedue, I have a lot to do, so--” He stopped only because he was overcome with a violent cough, one that knocked him off his feet and into Dedue’s waiting arms. He wriggled, protesting weakly as Dedue lifted him off the floor, one arm behind his back and the other under his knees. “I t-told you I’m--” He coughed again, hiding it in the crook of his elbow.

Dedue set him on the bed and tucked him in again, unable to hide a little bit of frustration as he pushed the blanket up to his chin. “Ashe, I know you’re busy. You have been working very hard. But you cannot allow yourself to--”

“To what?” Ashe muttered, flipping onto his side, facing away from Dedue. It hurt, watching Ashe curl up, his head ducking down so only a little of his silver hair was visible over the blanket.

“To get this bad,” Dedue finished quietly. He sighed when Ashe didn’t answer. Ashe could be stubborn as a mule--anyone could attest to that--but this was just frustrating. He’d never been one to be so careless with his health.

Angela’s words laid heavy on Dedue’s heart. _ I think he was just doing it because he missed you. _

“Ashe… I’m sorry--”

“I know.”

There was such a bitterness in his voice. Dedue didn’t know how to respond to it. He was sorry for his long absence. He was sorry for making Ashe miss him to the point of getting sick. But Ashe didn’t want to hear that.

Dedue rested his elbows on his knees and steepled his fingers, pressed his mouth against them. Ashe didn’t move at all. A long moment of silence passed, and Dedue finally whispered, “I came to deliver a message from Dimitri.”

Ashe did shuffle at that, but only to curl up tighter. His hair disappeared underneath the blanket.

“It’s… a wedding invitation.”

“A wedding,” Ashe breathed. His voice was muffled by the covers, but Dedue didn’t miss the wetness to it, the thickness. As if he were about to cry.

Dedue reached out and pulled the blanket down to find Ashe staring at him, his nose wet and red, his eyes sparkling. He blinked rapidly and reached up to wipe the tears, but Dedue took his hand. “Ashe, if you’d asked me to come, I would have in an instant--”

Ashe wiggled his hand out of Dedue’s grasp and sat up. “How could I ask that of you?” he snapped. “Y-your duty is--”

“My duty is you,” Dedue breathed, taken aback by his own realization. Dimitri was right. How could he have ever put anything over Ashe? The one who's very memory carried him through the hardest years of the war, the one who had waited for him all this time? The one he loved…

"My duty is you," he repeated, more firmly this time, his hands shaking on the edge of the bed, though he didn’t dare reach out to Ashe again. He couldn’t bear Ashe pushing him away. “You are always at the forefront of my mind--”

“Always?” Ashe laughed, but there was no humor in his voice. It felt like venom instead. It hurt in a way Dedue hadn't expected. He realized… maybe what Ashe needed was a moment alone.

He rose to his feet, whispering, “If you’re upset with me, you should tell me. All I want is for you to be well, and I’d appreciate your honesty--”

“And I’d appreciate you actually being around for once!”

The silence was sharp as a blade, like a clang of steel on steel, echoing around the room. Ashe’s eyes went wide, and tears spilled down his cheeks, and he threw his hands over his mouth. Dedue didn’t know what to say. He slowly pulled the invitation from his pocket, trying to ignore the way his hand trembled as he laid it on Ashe’s night table.

Then he turned on his heel and left the room, covering his eyes with one hand as he closed the door behind him.

* * *

Ashe stayed in bed for hours, staring at the letter on his night table, unopened. Every part of him felt raw, his eyes and nose and throat and head. He didn’t want to move, but he’d already spent all day crying.

How could he have said that? The way Dedue’s face twisted, as if he’d been punched or stabbed or…

It made Ashe’s eyes well up with tears all over again. He turned his face into his pillow.

Alistair and Angela had already come to check in on him, but he’d pretended to be asleep. He couldn’t face them. What would they say when they found him broken hearted like this? He could only imagine.

He sat up decidedly, wiping hard at his eyes until they almost felt bruised. He wasn't going to mope anymore. He and Dedue had argued so little in their lives, and usually only over trivial things. Which spice worked best in a soup, was it cruel to keep flowers in a pot, whether Ashe slept in far too long or whether Dedue snored or not.

This was hard because it was the first that couldn't be resolved with a laugh or a kiss. But they could get through it. They had to.

Ashe didn't know what he'd do without Dedue in his life. He'd lived almost an entire war without him, and he couldn't… he couldn't bear that again.

He sniffled hard, squeezed his head between his hands, and then grabbed the letter. It really was from Dimitri, his scratchy cursive signed along the bottom.

_ A wedding _, he thought bitterly, opening the letter. He could see the Professor’s Crest stamped beside the King’s. Dimitri and Byleth. They always had been close, he guessed.

He opened the letter and tried to read through it, but it just made his throat tight and achey.

_ You are formally invited to celebrate the marriage of Byleth Eisner and Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd. _

That was as much as he could read without getting angry. He gritted his teeth. He didn’t want to go to Dimitri’s stupid wedding. Just the thought of it made him sick with jealousy, and he hated himself for it. Why was he jealous? What was wrong with him? Just the thought of being jealous of the King made him feel so guilty he couldn’t bear it.

He hastily folded the invitation, nearly tossing the letter in his drawer with all of Dedue’s, but something slipped out of the envelope before he could. It was a small piece of parchment, folded up and tied delicately with twine and… a violet.

Ashe stared at it in his lap for a good minute before gingerly picking it up. He untied the twine and twirled the violet between his fingers. His favorite… How did Dimitri…?

The parchment contained a letter, this one more intimate than the official invitation.

_ Dear Ashe, _

_ We have not spoken since the war, but I hope you have been well. I’ve always been a little awkward writing letters. I’m never quite sure what to say. _

_ I would be greatly honored if you were to attend my wedding. Even after all this time, I still consider you a great friend and ally. I have heard much about your inn, and even more about how dutifully you care for the region of Gaspard. You have my utmost gratitude. I know I am a better king for your lordship. _

_ Ashe, I hope we will see each other again at the wedding. Dedue tells me how much you’ve grown. I’d like to see it with my own eyes. I’d like to have a moment to speak with you as well… there are many things I’ve neglected to tell you, but it would be inappropriate to discuss them in a letter such as this. _

_ Also, Dedue told me that violets are your favorite. The garden has bloomed a great deal of them. I thought you might enjoy the first of the season. Dedue put much care into fostering their growth. _

_ Sincerely, _

_ Dimitri _

Ashe read the letter again and again, frowning more each time. Dimitri…

He sank into his pillows, his lips trembling as he twirled the flower again. It really had been a long time since they’d spoken. He could still remember it--with an ache in his chest--the day he yelled at Dimitri before the crumbled organ in the cathedral. His voice echoing off the walls. Dimitri’s fist curled in the front of his shirt. How could Dimitri write to him like a friend when that was the last time they’d ever stood face to face?

He held the flower to his nose and took a long sniff. It had faded and dried during its travels, but it still smelled sweet. Ashe closed his eyes, remembering a long, long time ago. Before the war. Crouched over a plot of dirt in the monastery greenhouse. His cheeks streaked with dirt, his nails dark with soil. A row of violets freshly weeded.

And Dedue’s hand on his shoulder.

Ashe opened his eyes. He didn’t want to cry anymore. He felt so stupid, crying because he couldn’t see his stupid boyfriend enough.

He hastily shoved the letter back into its envelope and hid it in the drawer, but footsteps outside his room made him look up in surprise before he could close it. By the time the knob twisted, he’d already burrowed back into his blankets, hiding from whoever walked in.

“Dedue is spending the night at the inn,” Alistair said as he came towards the bed.

Ashe tried to lay as still as he could. He didn’t care that Dedue was staying (or so he told himself). If Dedue wanted to go back to Fhirdiad and help Dimitri plan his grand romantic wedding, then that was just fine by him.

But the idea of Dedue going off and planning Dimitri’s wedding made him bitter.

He curled up beneath the blanket. Alistair sat on the edge of his bed. “Ashe. You’re awake.”

Ashe shook his head despite himself. “No I’m not…” he muttered under the blanket.

Alistair sighed and rose to his feet. Ashe heard him rustling through his drawer, and he shot up from where he’d hidden away. “Wait--”

But Alistair had already pulled out the letter from Dimitri. “The King is getting married?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

Ashe groaned and curled up. “Don’t remind me…”

Alistair looked down at Ashe, and Ashe swore he could feel his judgement. Alistair never had to say anything. He’d inherited their father’s cool blue eyes--one of the only things Ashe could remember about the man--and they were so firm and calculating.

“He’s invited you.”

Ashe curled up tighter, as tight as he could, a ball. “I guess.”

“And you’ll be attending.”

Ashe didn’t answer that.

“Ashe--”

“I don’t… I don’t have time to attend a wedding,” Ashe whispered. It wasn't entirely an excuse. There was always work to be done. He couldn't take days or weeks to celebrate a wedding when the inn and region itself needed someone to watch over them.

“Time or no time,” Alistair sighed, “You’re not just a friend from school or an ally from the war.” Ashe felt Alistair's hand touch his hair, brush it back from his face. “You’re a Lord now, and you can’t just ignore the King’s request.”

Ashe closed his eyes tighter, savoring the gentle touch. Alistair had never been a gentle soul like Ashe, so his kindness was rare. The last time Ashe even held him, he was sure Alistair had been just a child, barely out of diapers. The thought brought Ashe some peace. Things had been so hard back then, but at least it had just been him and Alie and Angela.

Sometimes, when it was very quiet and he was all alone, and the ghosts came back to haunt him, he wished it had stayed that way. That he’d never been adopted, never gone to the Officer’s Academy, never fought in that horrific war.

“You’re trembling,” Alistair whispered. Ashe nodded, and Alistair removed his hand. “I’ll get you a cloth. The fever is getting worse.”

Ashe watched him go. The guilt was so heavy on his shoulders. He reached up and rubbed the one that hurt the most, the once-shattered joint threaded together by time and old magic. It always ached when he thought about the war.

It ached when he thought about what might have been, if his parents hadn’t died, if he hadn’t been adopted by Lord Lonato. What might have happened if Christophe hadn’t died? If Lonato hadn’t turned on the Church? What would have happened if he hadn’t gone to the Officer’s Academy at all, or if he hadn’t met Dimitri, or if Professor Byleth hadn’t chosen to teach his class? What would have happened if the war never happened--or if he hadn’t fought in it?

He tried to imagine a world where nothing had changed. Would he have worked in the kitchen with his parents? Would he have lived a life of peace and anonymity? He almost longed for that, sometimes, when he was vulnerably alone.

It made him feel so unbearably guilty.

He didn’t want to have never met Lonato or Christophe. He didn’t want to have never gone to the Officer’s Academy, or to have never met his friends there. Even that horrible, horrible war, all the bloodshed and trauma, and those months, those years, where he’d grieved--

The only time he didn’t think about it was when his head rested against Dedue’s chest, when he was lulled to sleep by the steady beating of his heart. He squeezed the blankets, imagining they were Dedue’s shirt. He imagined he could feel Dedue’s big hand gently stroking his back, imagined Dedue’s lips were pressed against the top of his head. Goddess, he didn’t want to never have met Dedue. The thought would have filled his eyes with tears, had he any more to cry.

“Ashe, will you lay on your back for me?” Alistair asked.

Ashe blinked his eyes open to look up at him, standing at his bedside with a wet cloth in his hands. He nodded weakly and turned over so that Alistair could lay the cloth over his forehead. It was cool and soothing. Ashe hadn’t even realized how unbearably hot he’d felt until the dampness seeped into his skin. He hummed weakly, reaching up to press it down. “Thank you…” he whispered.

Alistair said nothing, but he remained seated on the edge of the bed. Ashe studied him for a moment. Whenever he thought of his siblings, he always remembered them a little younger than they really were. He still remembered the baby fat on Alistair’s cheeks, but it wasn’t there anymore. His pale face was very nearly gaunt, and he seemed so mature. He was an adult now. He was almost the same age Ashe was when the war ended.

When did he get so old? When did he start making Ashe feel so young and vulnerable?

Ashe closed his eyes. He needed to be more responsible. He remembered the hard edge of Dedue’s voice, _ You cannot allow yourself to get this bad _.

Ugh. Wasn’t he supposed to have grown up so much? And yet everyone was taking care of him instead.

He swallowed hard. “I’ll… send a letter,” he whispered.

Alistair shifted. “A letter?”

“To the King. I’ll send him a letter to apologize…”

Ashe heard the rustling of parchment paper and peeked an eye open to watch as Alistair read over Dimitri’s letter--his real one, the one that had been wrapped up with twine. “Funny, it says here he wants to talk to you in person.”

Ashe frowned. “So?”

“So, it would be rude to refuse his invitation with…” Alistair shook the papers in his hand. “A letter.”

Ashe looked away. He was right. He remembered Alistair was always the one who watched Lonato work in his office, who helped Christophe with his letters. If anyone knew etiquette, it was Alie.

“I… I don’t want to go,” he whispered. He couldn’t imagine it. Going back to Garreg Mach after all this time, watching the wedding he wished could be his--

He took a sharp breath through his nose. Oh. Maybe… maybe that was why he was jealous. He wished _ he _was the one getting married.

He wondered if his face was turning red, and if he could blame his fever. He and Dedue hadn’t even used the word love yet, let alone _ marriage _, and they’d just gotten into a huge argument, and--

“You’ll have to refuse in person.”

Ashe looked at Alistair in shock. “What--”

Alistair shrugged. “If you were to refuse by letter, he would assume you’re uninterested in speaking to him.”

Ashe sat up, ignoring the ache in his shoulder. “B-but Fhirdiad is so far away, Alie--”

“Yes, it is,” he said and rose to his feet. “So you’d better get ready as soon as you’re well enough for travel.”

Ashe tried to sit up straighter, coughing weakly. “Alistair, I-I can’t, the inn a-and--”

Alistair turned on Ashe, his pale eyes piercing. “Angela loves that inn just as much as you, Ashe. She can run it just fine for a couple of days. And you know as well as I do I have more of a nose for politics than you ever did. Your retainers are well-trained. Everything will be fine.”

“But--”

“But what, Ashe?” Alistair snapped. His eyes softened at the way Ashe flinched. He sat on the edge of the bed again, furrowing his brows. “Ashe… I’m going to ask you a question, and I want you to answer me as honestly as you can.”

Ashe didn’t know what to say to that. He trusted Alie, but he had a way of asking questions that pierced him like an arrow through armor. Sudden. Sharp.

Even so, he nodded. He was an adult. He could handle it. No matter what Alie had to ask, he could be honest and mature, he could talk about his feelings like a damn adult.

“Why do you work so hard?”

Ashe blinked at him. That was an easy answer. He was almost surprised how easy. “Because it’s my responsibility,” he said, furrowing his brow.

Alistair nodded solemnly. “And who gave you that responsibility?”

Ah. There it was. Ashe bit his lip, looking away. He had given himself the responsibility, hadn’t he? After all, he was the one who’d agreed to become the Lord of Gaspard, when the position was offered to him. He was the eldest son, now that Christophe was gone and Lonato was dead. It was his responsibility.

And the inn, he’d chosen to open it. He’d chosen to honor his parents. He’d bought the plot of land where their restaurant used to be, he’d put it upon his own shoulders to serve Duscur food despite the prejudice--_ because _ of the prejudice. He’d chosen to put his dream of being a knight to rest because he wanted to open the path to rebuilding, for mending the wounds that had long torn Faerghus apart.

“I did,” he said, but when Alie raised his brows at him, he suddenly wasn’t so sure.

“Did you?” Alistair asked. He looked out the window. It had grown late. The moonlight made his pale skin paler. “Then if that’s the case, why are you so afraid to take a break? Why are you so afraid of failing? Are you scared you’ll disappoint yourself?”

Ashe opened his mouth to respond--to tell Alie it wasn’t like that--but Alistair smiled, and it seemed so sad. “I don’t think that’s it, Ashe. You’re not scared of disappointing yourself--you’re scared you’ll disappoint Lonato. Or Christophe. Or Dedue. Maybe even our parents.”

Ashe shut his mouth. That… that wasn’t true, he just…

He curled up into a ball.

“You know Ashe, I don’t remember our parents at all.” His voice was very matter of fact, very light as if he wanted Ashe to believe he didn’t mind it. But he’d known Alie long enough to tell when he was lying. “But I don’t think they would have wanted this. And do you remember, Lonato taught us how to read and write… he taught us everything. But when we messed up, when we failed, he just encouraged us to take our time. To try again. To be gentle with ourselves. Christophe was just the same.” He looked at Ashe. “And Dedue too, when you were pushing him away earlier at the inn, he just wanted you to take a break.”

Ashe blinked away a wetness at his eyes. Why were there tears at the corners, dripping across the bridge of his nose? He was sure he’d cried them all already.

“You’re not going to disappoint them by slowing down. You’re always so broken up about Dedue not coming to visit… but you never go to visit him either. Why deny yourself something that would make you happy?”

Ashe closed his eyes tight, letting the tears drip down, but he made no sound. Why _ did _he do that? And then he blamed Dedue or Dimitri or the cruel hands of fate for keeping them apart… He was so selfish. He was so stupid.

Alistair’s hand brushed Ashe’s bangs out of his eyes as he curled up tighter and tighter. “If you still don’t want to go to the wedding--”

“No,” Ashe whispered, pressing his forehead against Alistair’s cool palm. “I… I changed my mind. I want to go.”

He didn’t want to be selfish anymore. Alistair was right. He and Angela could handle it for a few days. He didn’t have to… He didn’t have to…

He hummed when Alistair rubbed his temple with his thumb. “Okay,” Alistair whispered back, but there was a hint of pride in his voice that made Ashe want to cry for an entirely different reason. “Then why don’t you get some sleep?”

He nodded, already on the verge of dreaming. He was… so happy… He’d lost so much… but through it all, he’d always had Alistair. He’d always had Angela.

He’d never been alone. Not really.

He fell asleep shivering, but his shoulder no longer ached.

* * *

Dedue liked to keep busy. Gardening. Cooking. Training. He’d fallen out of it, recently. He was so busy helping Dimitri run the kingdom, he’d had little time to hone his skills or tend to the greenhouse. He cooked some, mostly when he came to visit Ashe.

But clearly, those visits were few and far between.

That was why he wandered down to the kitchen after the inn had shut down its restaurant for the night. In nothing but his night clothes, feeling much like a child sneaking a midnight snack. It had been so long since he felt like a child.

He tried to remember what it was like. He still had vague memories of his mother’s long hair, tied up neatly down her back. His younger sister dancing around the kitchen, without a care in the world. He remembered the fields of Duscur, unmarred by war.

He found himself in the kitchen, searching through the ingredients. Ashe had always been very adamant to only have fresh, authentic ingredients. He didn’t know how or where the fruits and herbs and vegetables had come from, but just the scent of them brought Dedue home.

He felt like he was home. Ashe felt like home.

He took the ingredients out, trying not to think too much. He knew cooking would soothe his restless mind. It was easy to focus on… the feeling of a knife in his hand. The sound of water simmering, then boiling. The steady chop of his blade, the springy crunch as he cut through leaves. He was so focused, he didn’t notice the steady tap of footsteps until Angela stood at his side, watching him work.

He barely restrained himself from jolting, from slashing out in blind fear. Even so, his heart pounded in his chest, and his hand began to tremble. He hastily resumed chopping as she said, “Sorry for scaring you.”

Angela leaned her elbow against the counter, staring at his knife moving. Dedue swallowed hard. Angela was just as small as her brothers, just as fragile. “It’s all right,” he said.

She hummed, clearly a little sleepy, if her drooping eyes were any indication. Her hair was tied up in a messy ponytail that framed her face endearingly. “What’re you making?” she asked.

He continued chopping, humming thoughtfully to himself. “A soup my mother used to make when I got… sick…” He paused, realizing he’d been making it for Ashe. He hadn’t even thought about it.

Angela hummed too, studying the way he worked. He was used to being watched as he cooked. Though Ashe had always lent a hand, he remembered how some of his classmates merely stared in awe at his handiwork. Even Dimitri, who had no sense of taste, lit up with delight whenever Dedue cooked. _ I can still smell and see, Dedue _ , he’d say. _ And I can tell good cooking when I see it. _

He glanced over at the pot of water that had begun to boil and gathered up the greens he’d chopped. He looked at Angela as he dropped them in. “Would… would you like to help?”

She smiled widely, the sleep gone from her eyes. “I’d love to!”

He hadn’t expected such an enthusiastic response, but it brought a smile to his face. He handed her a knife and gave her instructions, and off she went. They weaved around each other as they worked, offering advice, lending a hand. Dedue remembered his school days, cooking duty with Ashe, the eager shine to his eyes every time Dedue asked for his help.

But he was also reminded of… before.

The day he learned this recipe. His mother sick in bed, his sister asking for his help because she was too young to work alone. He remembered picking her up so she could put the vegetables in the pot, the warm weight of her against his stomach. He remembered his hair was longer then, braided down his back, and how she’d tug it to grab his attention. He remembered scolding her, the way she laughed, both hands covering her mouth.

“Dedue… are you okay?”

He glanced over at Angela, stirring rice into the pot, blinking at him with genuine concern. He realized his eyes were wet, and he reached up to find a few tears had fallen down his cheek. “I… Yes, I’m all right,” he assured, wiping the wetness away. “You just… remind me of someone I miss.”

She hummed thoughtfully, turning back to her pot. She was 23, wasn’t she? The same age as Dedue when the war ended. That thought made his heart ache. He’d never see his sister that age. He couldn’t even quite remember how old she was when…

“Ashe told me…” Angela whispered suddenly. “I mean, about your family. That you… you know…”

Dedue frowned. He wasn’t surprised, and he wasn’t upset. He could imagine Ashe sitting down with his siblings, asking them to be careful not to mention something that might hurt him, or remind him of everything that had happened. Ashe was thoughtful that way.

He walked up to stand beside Angela, watching the boiling soup. “I had a younger sister,” he admitted.

Angela glanced up at him, eyes wide. “Really?”

He nodded. He smiled, just a little. “That’s who you remind me of. She was very… eager. She loved to cook.”

Angela smiled shyly and shrugged. “Yeah, I guess cooking is okay.” But the way she said it, with a fondness in her eyes, told Dedue she loved it a fair bit more than she let on. “You know Dedue… I know it’s not the same, but… I kinda…” She bit her lip, and Dedue put a hand on her elbow, a steadying, gentle touch. She smiled a little. “I consider you family.”

Dedue hoped his hand didn’t tremble at the words. He… he felt the same. He knew he did. But he’d never really admitted that to himself. He’d never said so much, out loud or in his own mind. It ached in his stomach just thinking about it.

He looked at the pot again, mulling it over. He saw Ashe’s siblings rarely, but each time he wanted to know how they were doing. He wanted to know if they were safe. He often brought them gifts, and spent time with them as much as he spent with Ashe.

And Ashe…

“I want to propose to your brother.”

There was silence in the wake of his confession, only the boiling of the soup to break the still night air.

Then Angela gasped and grabbed Dedue’s hand. “What!” She grabbed his other hand and turned him to face her. “Oh my Goddess, Dedue, are you serious?”

He didn’t know how to respond to her enthusiasm. He nodded shakily, and she squealed again, throwing herself against him in a bear hug. “Dedue, that’s so exciting! Goddess, we have to--well, we have to plan it, it’s got to be perfect, we should--”

“Angela,” he whispered, pressing a hand to her back. She looked up at him, eyes wide. “I haven’t even told him I love him yet.”

She blinked up at him for a long moment, before leaning back and laughing, “What?”

He shut his mouth very slowly, shame like a pit in his stomach. Her face twisted. “Wait, are you… are you serious?” She laughed, still disbelieving. “You’ve never like said ‘I love you’?”

Dedue shook his head. He looked at the floor. She had every right to be shocked. Five years they’d been together, and he’d never said it. How could he neglect something so simple and meaningful? Something so important?

“Dedue, that’s ridiculous,” she said, putting her hands on her hips. “You can’t be serious. How does something like that just slip your mind?”

He didn’t know. He started to wring his hands, a nervous habit he’d unintentionally picked up from Ashe over the years. He focused acutely on the way his nails felt against his fingertips, the shape and size of his joints, the roughness of his palms.

“Oh…” Angela crossed her arms over her chest. “Dedue. There has to be a reason. You guys have been together _ forever _, there’s no way you just forgot.”

He was starting to wonder if that were true. He was starting to believe there was another reason, and that maybe the reason was the ache in his chest when Angela said she considered him family.

Dedue swallowed hard, folding his arms over his chest. Hiding almost. “I haven’t… had a family for fourteen years,” he whispered.

Angela said nothing, only staring up at him, a tenderness to her gaze that made Dedue feel so vulnerable. Just when had that rambunctious little girl Ashe sighed about gotten so mature?

“I’ve had… friends. I’ve had Dimitri. And they are all comforting. I treasure them. But…” He looked away, back at the pot boiling. It was different, cooking in the Academy’s small kitchen, different cooking with someone so fascinated by his cooking, by his culture, someone outside of him.

Ashe was different.

He was always different.

When they cooked together, it was easy. It was so natural. Ashe knew what Dedue needed, whether it was a spoon or a spice or a gentle touch. When they cooked together, they were _ together _, the same way he’d felt cooking with his mother or sister--even his father, when he could be convinced to join.

And it scared Dedue, somehow.

“I love Ashe in ways I cannot describe,” he whispered. “But the last people I loved, I lost.”

Angela’s hand reached up to rub his elbow, and he looked at her again. Angela, Alistair, _ Ashe _. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing them. It terrified him. He’d learned during the war the meaning of vulnerability. He’d spent so many years looking over his shoulder, so many years unable to sit still, unable to trust a moment’s peace…

To him, Ashe was a moment’s peace. It was so hard to sit still… to enjoy it. To bask in the safety of Ashe’s frail embrace. No matter how closely, tightly they held each other, he wondered somewhere deep down if it could last.

He remembered the bitterness on Ashe’s face when he’d shouted at him earlier. He’d seen Ashe upset before, even angry, but this was…

It reminded him of his fear--in fact, it made him realize there was any fear there at all. He could lose Ashe. It didn’t have to be through death. In a way, that scared him more. There were many ways he could lose Ashe. He could be the cause himself.

“Dedue,” Angela whispered, rubbing his arm soothingly. She stepped forward to hug him, and this time he hugged her back. “You know, it’s okay to be afraid, right? But what’s the point of loving in moderation? Just so you don’t get hurt? That’s so dumb.”

Dedue very nearly smiled. She could be so irreverent, and yet he found it comforting. She leaned back and grinned up at him. “Sure, it hurts when you lose people--believe me I know--but if you never have anyone because you’re scared to lose them, then what’s the point of living?”

She sighed, and Dedue saw a flash of sadness in her eyes. She looked at the pot boiling, and decidedly grabbed a spoon to stir it. “You know Dedue… I lost my family twice. And it sucked. And I know Ashe probably doesn’t talk about it--Alistair sure doesn’t--but sometimes I wonder what it’d be like if I’d never lost anyone at all. I guess, I realized, I’d be someone else, you know?”

She lifted a spoonful of soup and waved for Dedue to lean down for a taste. He did so, rolling the flavor around his tongue. Perfect.

She smiled at his expression. “Dedue, I think you’d be different if you’d never met Ashe.”

He stood straight again and looked around the empty kitchen. This inn… it was as much a part of him as it was a part of Ashe and Angela and Alistair. As much as it was Gaspard’s, it was Duscur’s. “Yes,” he whispered. “Yes, I would.”

“If you want another family, it won’t erase your old one.”

He nodded, feeling his eyes begin to water. “Yes. You’re right.” He’d never realized how badly he _ wanted _it. He wanted to be part of Ashe’s family. He wanted Ashe to be a part of his.

He reached up to wipe his eyes of tears, but more continued to fall. And Angela didn’t say a word. She hugged his arm, and he thought he felt her tears too. He certainly felt her smile.

* * *

Dedue went home before Ashe could figure out what he wanted to say to him. He decided it was okay, though it left a little ache in his heart. He knew Dedue had to go back to Fhirdiad, help Dimitri plan his wedding. It hurt but… it was okay. He figured he’d see him at the wedding, after all.

Instead of worrying about it, he focused on getting ready for said wedding as well. The moment he recovered from his illness, he went back to work and started training Angela to take over the inn while he was gone. She hated all of the paperwork, the accounting, but when Ashe saw how Alistair laughed and encouraged her, he realized it was going to be okay.

Alistair was a natural himself. He took to leading the household so easily. He was right--he’d always had more of a nose for politics, for writing letters and making deals and putting his foot down. Ashe couldn’t help the tears of pride that welled up in his eyes whenever his retainers told him just how wonderfully Alistair was doing in his stead.

He didn’t even notice the wedding date sneaking up on him until the day he had to leave finally came.

“Angela,” he laughed as she shoved clothes into a bag. “I’ll only be gone a week.”

She huffed and pushed down harder, trying to flatten his nice suit and surely putting wrinkles in the fabric. “Yeah, but what if something happens? You’ve got to be prepared for anything, Ashey!” She stopped and leaned back, grimacing. “Oh gross. I’m starting to sound like Alistair.”

Ashe laughed again, gently taking her hands off his bag and sitting on the bed. He pulled out his suit and started to fold it neatly, much to her annoyance. She flopped down on the bed next to him. “You know who else you sound like?” Ashe asked, setting his folded suit back in the bag.

“Who?” she asked.

He smiled and tickled her stomach which made her burst into giggles, wriggling to get him off. “Like Christophe!”

She pushed at his hands, but the smile on her face was wide and vibrant. He only let up when she started to wheeze, flopping back and giving up. She grinned up at him. “You really think so?” she asked.

He smiled down at her and kissed her forehead. “I do. You’ve grown up so much, Angie.”

Her smile turned sweeter. “Thank you, Ashe. And… thanks for believing in me. Letting me run the inn and all, I mean… It means a lot.”

Before he could respond, there was a knock at the door. He and Angela sat up as Alistair walked in, looking surprisingly flustered. “Ashe, the King sent an escort for you.”

Ashe furrowed his brow. He’d sent a letter confirming he would attend the wedding, but Dimitri had said nothing about sending him an escort. He hurriedly picked up his bags. “Well then I should probably--”

“Wait,” Alistair said, raising a hand to stop him in his tracks. “You don’t have to take it, if you don’t want to.”

“Uh… why wouldn’t I?”

Alistair sighed, leaning out of the doorway. “He sort of sent your boyfriend along too.”

Ashe’s hands trembled at the words. He gripped his bags tighter. He hadn’t… He hadn’t even thought of what he was going to say to Dedue when he saw him next. He’d been hoping he could use the journey to Garreg Mach to think about it. He needed to apologize, of course. He needed to be honest with him, tell him about his fears, his insecurities, explain himself. And apologize.

But as he stepped outside and saw Dedue tending to the horses hooked to Dimitri’s wagon, all of his words left him. It was just like before. Seeing Dedue made everything better somehow. Even though the last time they spoke, they argued. Even though Ashe felt so guilty he could barely breathe. Even though he didn’t know what to say or if he could even speak at all.

Dedue turned to look at him over his shoulder, and a smile spread across his face. How could he smile like that, after what Ashe had said to him? Ashe didn’t know, and he didn’t know if he cared either. He was just happy to be smiled at. He basked in the warmth of it.

“Ashe,” Alistair said, and Ashe jolted and looked at him. “You don’t have to accept it, if you need some space.”

Ashe frowned. He knew he didn’t. He knew it might have been for the best to turn down the offer, give himself more time to figure out how to tell Dedue everything he needed to say.

But he shook his head. “It’s okay, Alie,” he assured. He reached out and pulled him into a tight hug that Alistair lightly returned. “I’ll be okay. You stay safe here, all right? And don’t get into too much trouble. And send word for me if anything goes wrong, you know I’ll come running back!”

Angela’s laughter echoed down the hall, and he and Alie looked up just in time for her to run and throw herself into the embrace. She yanked them both close to her, and even though she was shorter, her hug was even more bruising. “Family hug!” she called. “We love you so much Ashe, you go have fun okay!”

Ashe laughed, wrapping an arm around her waist to squeeze her back. “Okay, okay, I will, I promise, I will!”

She planted a firm kiss on his cheek and then ruffled his hair as he wriggled out of her embrace. “You better have fun! And bring back souvenirs!”

Ashe waved back at her as he walked down the front steps and came face to face with Dedue who looked down at him, his smile small and unsure. “Hey,” he whispered.

“Hello,” Dedue responded.

They stared at each other a moment more before one of the horses whinnied and broke the silence between them. Dedue cleared his throat and held out his hand. “Allow me to take your bags.”

Ashe almost protested, but Dedue was too fast for him. He took Ashe’s bags and hefted them into the back of the wagon. “Would you like to sit with them?” Dedue asked, almost kneeling to help Ashe step inside.

Ashe waved his hand at him. “No, no, it’s okay, I… We can sit up front together.”

Dedue nodded. Ashe followed him back around to the front, and when Dedue grabbed him by the waist to put him on the seat, he didn’t complain or question it, though it undoubtedly left a flush on the apples of his cheeks.

He looked over the side as they left. He hadn’t actually left Gaspard in a long time. Little things here and there, the farthest being the edge of the territory to quell bandits. But leaving for a week, even if everything would be left in the hands of his more than capable younger siblings…

He took a deep breath, trying to settle his nerves. Then he leaned over the side and shouted, “I love you! Be safe! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” to his siblings. They waved, Angela with both hands over her head, and he waved both arms back.

When he almost fell and Dedue grabbed the back of his coat to pull him upright, he didn’t say a word. He just looked up at Dedue’s firm profile and wondered how he ever went a day without him.

* * *

The journey to Garreg Mach was very quiet. Ashe slept through most of it, but Dedue didn’t mind. He could tell he needed the rest. He was no longer sick from overworking, but Dedue didn’t miss the darkness beneath his eyes or the way they fluttered open and shut as if he were ready to fall asleep any moment. Even if he weren't pushing himself too hard, he pushed. He put all of himself into his duty. He always had.

Dedue didn't know what to say to him. In his bag, a small wooden box with a small silver ring called out to him. He'd chosen it with Dimitri's help. But he didn't know how or when to bring it up.

He knew he should preface it with an apology. He wanted to tell Ashe exactly how he felt. He wanted to tell Ashe that he loved him. Ardently. Endlessly. He wanted to explain why he hadn't said it before--he wanted to apologize for his cowardice.

But the words wouldn't come.

Each time they bubbled to the surface, he looked over at Ashe, staring up at the moon, his pale face illuminated. He looked like a star. It took Dedue's breath away.

And then Ashe looked over at him, and his expression was so sad and nervous that Dedue clammed up and looked away again.

It was like that for a day or two, until one night as they stopped to let the horses rest, Ashe said, “His Majesty told me you grew violets…”

Dedue looked up at him from where he sat checking one of the wheels. He wrung his hands as he always did when he was nervous, and Dedue couldn’t help his eyes being drawn to the movement. “Yes,” he said, hoping he didn’t sound as breathless as he felt.

Ashe nodded, biting his lip. He knelt down beside Dedue and pointed at a loose bolt. “We should tighten that up,” he whispered, and Dedue felt his breath against his shoulder.

Dedue nodded too, standing up to retrieve his bag and some tools. To his surprise Ashe followed, almost like a duckling following its mother. So close behind, tiny footsteps, and always wringing his hands. Dedue didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what Ashe wanted to say.

It made his heart pound against his ribs. What if… What if Ashe wanted to end things? Dedue couldn’t bear the thought. Some frantic voice in his head insisted he was a man, he could handle something so frivolous as a breakup. He’d handled a genocide. He’d handled a war. He’d handled being on the run for years, never feeling safe. He could handle it.

But deep down he didn’t know if he could. Not when he loved Ashe so desperately. Not when Ashe felt like home, like the family he’d lost.

His hands trembled as he dug through his bag. Suddenly, Ashe’s hand touched his bicep, so small and slight against his arm. “Are you okay?” he asked.

Dedue didn’t know. He nodded anyway.

Ashe bit his lip gently, rolled it between his teeth as he looked away. Dedue had always thought he had lovely lips. That thought was nostalgic enough to draw his mind from every horrid word he could imagine coming through them. Even when they were still students, he’d thought Ashe was beautiful. He remembered the night of the White Heron Ball… it had been so very long since then, but he still remembered Ashe’s little hand in his, Ashe twirling underneath the stained glass ceiling, bathed in holy moonlight.

A child of Sothis.

He wondered if he’d loved Ashe even back then, before the thought of loving anyone had even crossed his mind. Back then when all he’d wanted was to serve Dimitri, to repay the kindness--the mercy--he’d shown him. Had Ashe been inside his heart even back then? Like a chrysalis at the center, waiting to burst, something beautiful within.

“Dedue, I…”

Dedue looked down at him as he pulled out the tool he needed to fix the wheel. Ashe looked nearly on the verge of tears, and it ached. He reached out, surprised when Ashe didn’t flinch away or push off his touch. He laid his palm against Ashe’s soft, warm cheek. Ashe turned his head, closed his eyes. He reached up to hold Dedue’s hand there, and Dedue hoped the warmth at the corners of his eyes wasn’t from tears welling and threatening to spill over.

Dedue blinked them back, letting his thumb gently trace over Ashe’s freckles. Ashe’s lips parted, and he took in a shaky breath. Dedue couldn’t help it. “Don’t,” he whispered. "Please."

Ashe’s eyes fluttered open, his brows furrowed. Dedue swallowed hard. He didn’t know what Ashe had to say, but… He didn’t want to hear it. Not yet. He felt a tear drip down his cheek, and Ashe’s face fell. He reached up to wipe it off, his hands cool and soothing. “Dedue--”

Dedue shook his head, catching Ashe’s hand and holding it between his own. “I…” He wanted to say I love you. He wanted to say it so desperately. But the words caught painfully in his throat and refused to spill from his lips. “I’m…”

Ashe smiled weakly, and it made Dedue feel so small and vulnerable. Ashe’s smile always had that effect on him. He felt like every one of Ashe’s smiles was a small blessing, bestowed upon him by some higher power. Had his own gods had mercy on him? Why would Ashe’s goddess gift him something so precious?

He didn’t know. He didn’t care.

He let his other tears spill, and let Ashe wipe them away. He let Ashe wrap his arms around him and nestle his cheek against his chest. He raised his hands to hold Ashe against him as well. Ashe whispered, “We don’t… We don’t have to say anything yet. Not until we’re ready.”

Dedue nodded and pressed his face against the top of Ashe’s head. “I grew the violets because they reminded me of you,” he admitted.

Ashe let out a shivery sigh. “I know,” he whispered back, his hands soothingly rubbing Dedue’s spine.

That night, they laid together in the back of the wagon, Ashe’s head on Dedue’s chest, their hands intertwined. They didn’t say anything. But Dedue knew that was okay. Ashe wouldn’t go anywhere, and neither would he. They had time.

When he thought about the ring in his bag, he smiled. He fell asleep smiling against Ashe’s hair.

* * *

Garreg Mach Monastery looked beautiful with the sun rising behind it, the cathedral and its Goddess Tower standing tall above the rest, like a beacon. Ashe felt conflicted as it came nearer. It was beautiful, but he’d realized that while it was home to some of the best moments of his life--making his first real friends, meeting and falling in love with Dedue--it was also home to some of the worst.

When he’d left the monastery the day after the war ended, he’d decided he would never return. He’d been so busy it had never really even crossed his mind, but now that he and Dedue rolled past the front gate, he remembered just how much he dreaded and looked forward to every part of it.

Dedue’s hand squeezed his, and Ashe was grateful for the reassurance. He smiled sweetly at Dedue, who smiled back. They still hadn’t really apologized yet. They hadn’t taken a moment to speak openly and honestly about what they wanted--how they felt. But that was okay. They would, he knew, when they were ready. And the fact that Dedue was willing to wait--that Dedue needed time too--brought Ashe so much peace.

The gatekeeper took their wagon with an enthusiastic greeting, and as they walked into the entrance hall, Ashe saw her first.

“Professor?” he gasped, eyes widening as an elegantly-robed woman walked down the hall towards them.

“Archbishop now, actually,” she said, her smile sweet. “Did you forget?”

Ashe grinned, tears welling in his eyes. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed her. When she opened her arms, Ashe grinned up at Dedue who smiled and obligingly let go of his hand so Ashe could run to embrace her.

She hugged him so tight. He didn’t mind that he was technically hugging the Archbishop of the Church of Seiros. He was just hugging his old teacher, his old leader, his old friend. “Ashe,” she hummed, her battle-roughened hands pressing him close. “You’ve grown so much. I’m proud.”

He pulled back, giggling at the praise. “Professor, you’ll make me blush!” He took both her hands in his own, hoping his earnestness shown through his eyes. “Congratulations on your wedding. I’m… I’m really, really happy for you.”

And he meant it. No matter his complicated feelings towards Dimitri or that still underlying bite of jealousy, he was so happy for her. If anyone deserved happiness, it was the woman who’d brought all of Fodlan together.

She blushed, smiled small, and then turned her head to Dedue who walked up beside Ashe. “Byleth,” he greeted with a short bow. “It is a privilege to see you again.”

She offered him a bit of a bow as well. “You as well.” She looked at Ashe again, and he couldn’t help but admire how beautiful she looked in the Archbishop’s robes, her green hair and eyes shining. Dimitri was indeed a lucky man. “You two are the first to arrive. Would you like to see the Monastery? The rebuilding efforts have gone well.”

Dedue shook his head, hefting up the bags in his arms. “I should take these to our room first.”

Byleth nodded. “Of course. The school year hasn’t begun yet, so the dorms are empty. You may take your old one, if you’d like.”

Dedue smiled at that, and then to Ashe’s surprise, leaned down and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You remember where to find me?”

Of course Ashe remembered. He smiled up at Dedue. “I do. I’ll see you later.”

Dedue nodded and took off, leaving just him and Byleth in the entrance hall. She smiled knowingly at him. “Should I toss my bouquet towards you?”

Ashe felt his face go hot with embarrassment. “P-Professor--”

She laughed, squeezing his hands. “Why don’t I show you--”

“Lady Byleth!”

They turned towards Seteth hurrying down the hall towards them, a veritable brick of papers in his hands. He looked more stressed than Ashe remembered back during his school days, and that was saying something. Byleth frowned. “Sorry, Ashe, you might have to take a look around yourself,” she apologized.

Seteth stopped a few feet away, tapping his foot impatiently. “This wedding is going to drive me insane, Lady Byleth,” he complained, and then seeing Ashe, offered a polite wave.

Byleth smiled fondly and shook her head before turning to Ashe. “I’ll see you later. Please, make yourself at home.”

She left Ashe alone in the hall, blinking up at the high ceilings, the ornate walls. It really had been… so long.

He did walk around, running his hand along the railing of the stairs, glancing into the dining hall. Just a little beyond was the kitchen. The memories of cooking there with Dedue--with everyone really--made his heart warm. He stepped out into the courtyard, smiling at the monks milling about. The classrooms were no longer decorated with the symbols of the three houses. Instead a banner bearing the Crest of Flames hung from the walls, pure white and pale green. The Crest of the Goddess Sothis herself. He supposed that was what the Church of Seiros stood for now. No longer was Fodlan divided into territories. Now the Church stood as a reminder of Fodlan’s unity.

He supposed some good had come out of the war after all.

He continued on, at the stables, where people he didn’t know tended to the horses. The knight’s hall where he used to train so hard to be strong, brave, heroic. The cemetery, where they’d laid Byleth’s father Jeralt to rest.

He walked into the reception hall, which was a flurry of movement. Everywhere there was someone rushing to set up what Ashe figured would be the wedding reception. He spotted Byleth and Seteth again, agonizing over how to organize the chairs.

He remembered the White Heron Ball was held there once. He remembered how awkward he’d been then. He hadn’t known how to dance, and he’d really only wanted to dance with one person.

He walked past the bridge, smiling as a pair of wyvern riders swooped over his head. The sunlight was so bright here, shining down on him. Up ahead, the cathedral rose high into the sky. Ashe felt dwarfed by it as he walked underneath the gate and through the huge double doors.

The organ was playing. And Dimitri stood before it.

Ashe didn’t stop walking, although some part of him wanted to. The last time he’d spoken to Dimitri… It had been so very long ago. Could he really call it speaking? It’d been far harsher than that.

He came to stand beside Dimitri, watching a monk play what sounded like a wedding march. It reminded him that in a few days, Ashe would sit in one of the pews beside all of their old friends and watch his King marry the love of his life.

It was so strange. They’d all come so far.

“Ashe,” Dimitri said suddenly, and his voice was so full of emotion that it surprised him.

Ashe turned his head to look up at him. He’d pulled his hair back from his face, the same way Ashe did sometimes, and he no longer wore an eyepatch, his scarred eye bared for all to see. Somehow it made Ashe smile. He seemed so happy, free. He wasn’t that hunched over ghost from the war anymore.

Dimitri smiled too and looked at the organ again. Ashe looked up at the ceiling, at the stained glass refracting sunlight onto the entire cathedral. “I’m glad you’re here,” Dimitri said.

Ashe smiled a little softer. “Yes. Me too.” He looked up at Dimitri again. “I…” There was a lot he wanted to say. He still felt guilty for being jealous of his wedding. He still felt guilty for the last time they spoke.

“I wanted to apologize to you.”

Ashe blinked in surprise, his brows furrowing. “What?”

Dimitri’s smile seemed so tired. Ashe wondered if he’d wanted to say this for a long time. “During the war… You yelled at me, and I pushed you away.”

Ashe shook his head, his face hot with shame. How could he apologize for that? If anyone should apologize, it should be Ashe. He’d realized, shamefully late, that Dimitri had been in just as much pain as him. What right had he to tell Dimitri he was mourning wrong?

He opened his mouth to say as much, but Dimitri raised his hand firmly. The words died in Ashe’s throat. “You told me back then that you needed me,” Dimitri whispered. “You said all of you needed me, but the truth is Ashe, I needed you.”

Ashe felt his cheeks flush even hotter at the words. “What do you mean?”

Dimitri looked at him then, and Ashe could tell without a doubt that this had weighed heavily on him for a long time. He could see it in the lightness of his shoulders, the slack of his jaw. Relief. “All of you… your support, your kindness… I took advantage of it. But you… you were a voice of reason. I just wish I’d listened sooner. We might have avoided…” He shook his head, closed his eyes for a brief moment. “Ashe… admittedly, I admire you.” Ashe gasped, and Dimitri smiled down at him. “I admire that you could be so strong for your siblings… And yet you never asked for help. You were so strong. I wish I were that strong--”

“Your Majesty,” Ashe said, shaking his head in disbelief. “W-with all due respect, you’re far stronger than me.” He reached to take Dimitri’s hand, holding it in a tight, determined grip. He remembered years ago, he wouldn’t have dared to touch Dimitri this way. Maybe he _ had _grown up. “You were in so much pain, but you made it through. Now you’re here. You’re the king everyone knew you could be, and…” He bit his lip and looked down at his hands wrapped around Dimitri’s. “Your--D-Dimitri… What I said back then was uncalled for. I was just… I was hurt. And scared. And I lashed out at you. I’m sorry.”

Dimitri’s eyes sparkled, but he smiled nonetheless. “Ashe… I’m sorry too. You were right, whether you were lashing out or not. You all needed a king, and I was nothing but a ghost. I’m just grateful… that you stayed even after I told you to leave. I’m grateful you had faith in me.”

They stared at each other for what felt like a long time. Ashe hadn’t expected an apology. He hadn’t expected to apologize either. He’d almost expected he wouldn’t speak to Dimitri at all. But this was better. This felt like… the beginning of something. A friendship he’d long since considered a foregone conclusion.

Dimitri squeezed his hand, and Ashe hurriedly let go, putting his hands behind his back and giving him a short bow. “Ah, c-congratulations on your wedding, by the way,” he said as he did so.

Dimitri laughed, and the sound was so warm, so real. It reminded Ashe of their school days. When they were still young, when they didn’t quite know what to do with their pain but to let it out on the wind in a scream or a sob or a hearty laugh that ached in their chest.

This one though, this one didn’t ache.

“I feel like the luckiest man in Fodlan,” Dimitri said, and Ashe recalled every time the Professor had stood by him during the war, no matter how desperately he’d pushed her away. He _ was _lucky, Ashe thought.

“You know,” Dimitri continued, putting his hands behind his back and looking as regal as Ashe had always imagined a king should be. “I asked Dedue to be my best man. I plan on returning the--” His eyes went wide, and he looked down at Ashe suddenly, his eyes frantically studying him as if in search of something.

Ashe quirked an eyebrow at him. “W-what’s wron--”

He laughed awkwardly. “A-ah, I just!” He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “W-well, I’d um, I’d heard you and Dedue…” He frowned a little. “I’d heard you were having some… trouble.”

Ashe frowned too, looking back up at the organ. They were playing a new song now, one that reminded Ashe of the hymns they all used to sing together on holidays. “Yes… I think… We’re going to be okay. We just need time.”

Dimitri nodded, a thoughtful look on his face. “I apologize for keeping him so often.”

Ashe shook his head. “No, it’s not your fault. We both… We both work too hard. I’m just as much to blame.” He laughed to himself. It was an understatement, wasn’t it? “But I…”

He took a sharp breath and looked at the organ. Goddess… What was he waiting for? He knew Dedue wanted time, that he wanted to think it over but… Ashe had nothing to think about. He loved Dedue. He _ loved _ him, and he was almost positive that he’d loved him since he met him, in some little way. It had bloomed into something so big and all consuming he could no longer deny it. Even if Dedue still needed time, Ashe could tell him how he felt. He could let him mull that over along with everything else.

He turned to Dimitri, feeling suddenly determined. “I have to tell him something. Thank you, Your Majesty.” He went to leave but stopped himself, staring up at Dimitri. And then he hugged him.

It was brief, but it was bruising. And Dimitri let out a surprised little laugh that made Ashe smile. He swore he could imagine Lonato’s voice, spluttering in shock, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t just a commoner anymore anyway, was he? And Dimitri… was his friend. “Thank you,” he whispered again, and then pulled away and ran.

He ran past the pews and out of the cathedral and all the way down the bridge. He dodged people in the halls, giggled out apologies, his heart pounding in his chest. He very nearly missed Dedue’s room, skidding to a stop at the sight of the door hanging open. He could barely catch his breath, and when Dedue looked at him through the doorway, he felt it leave him entirely.

“Ashe?” Dedue asked, furrowing his brow at him. He took a step through the doorway, but Ashe shook his head and rushed forward to push him back inside. “Are you--”

Ashe shut the door behind him, taking a deep breath as he looked up at Dedue. Goddess… Now that he was there, he wasn’t sure how to say it. _ I love you _ , he thought. _ I love you, I love you, so much that I can barely think about anything else sometimes _.

“I always wanted to know what your dorm room looked like,” he whispered instead.

He felt his face turn hot, and Dedue smiled that tired smile he loved so much. This time it looked more like a smirk. “Is that so?”

Ashe smiled shakily, taking a step closer to Dedue. “When we were in school…” He bit his lip. He’d never actually admitted this to anyone before. He didn’t know if he’d needed to. He’d always been sure he wasn’t very subtle about it. “I had the biggest crush on you. Daydreams… Writing our names together in my notes… The whole shebang.”

Dedue’s smile faltered, turned gentle. He reached up and cupped Ashe’s cheek. His thumb rubbed Ashe’s freckles, and Ashe reached up to hold his palm there. He didn’t take his eyes from Dedue however. He was determined now. No matter…. No matter if Dedue returned it. He needed to say it. He needed Dedue to know.

He opened his mouth to say it, but Dedue beat him to the punch. “Ashe, I need to apologize to you.”

Ashe shook his head, but Dedue tapped his lower lip with his thumb, as if to shush him. “I neglected you. And I should not have done that.”

“I did the same,” Ashe said, pouting up at him. “I was selfish, always expecting you to visit me. Well, I won’t do that anymore.” He pulled away from Dedue’s touch and put his hands on his hips, standing as tall as he could. “I’m going to visit you too, from now on. Angela and Alistair can handle things on their own. And I…” He lowered his hands, clasped them in front of him. “Dedue. I love you.”

The words did something to Dedue. Like a shiver went all down his spine. He stood up straighter, his blue green eyes going wide. Ashe suddenly felt nervous, that buoyant confidence leaving him like steam from a kettle. He wrung his hands together, looking down at his feet. “I just… I needed to tell you that. I know we haven’t--”

He gasped in surprise as Dedue’s hand gripped his chin and tilted his head up and back so their lips could press together.

His eyes fluttered shut at the sensation of Dedue’s warm, chapped lips against his own. It’d been far too long since they last kissed this way, and Ashe felt like he could melt into it. He reached up and put his hands on Dedue’s shoulders, hummed happily when Dedue wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him tight to his chest. His arms slipped around his neck.

They pulled apart with a soft wet sound, and Ashe pressed his forehead against Dedue’s. He didn’t even mind the ache of standing on his tiptoes just to reach. He let out a soft laugh. “That was--”

“I love you too.”

Ashe opened his eyes wide, staring at Dedue who looked at him with a ferocious determination. It sent a shiver through him as well. “Dedue--”

“I have always loved you, Ashe Ubert,” he said, his arm tightening around Ashe. Ashe moved his hands to cup his face, felt the tension in his jaw. “I should have said so sooner, b-but I was--...” Dedue shut his eyes, but Ashe didn’t miss the sparkle of tears there. He kissed over his eyes, felt the wetness on his lashes against his lips. “Everyone I’ve ever loved, I lost.”

Ashe rubbed the apples of his cheeks with his thumbs. “Dedue… Oh Dedue, I’m sorry. I didn’t even think--”

“I didn’t want you to know,” Dedue whispered. He shook his head. “I kept it inside, as I always have. I didn’t even realize… Ashe, I love you too. So much.”

Ashe smiled weakly, kissing Dedue’s eyes again and nuzzling their noses together. His back ached from stretching up on his toes so long, but he didn’t care. “It feels nice,” he whispered. “Saying I love you.”

Dedue smiled too, and Ashe kissed at a tear that dripped down his cheek. “It does. It feels very freeing.”

Ashe finally lost his footing, dropping down flat on his feet, but even so he wriggled to tuck his head under Dedue’s chin and hug him very tight. They stood there for a long time, holding each other and just reveling in the warmth of their embrace. Ashe thought he could be there forever.

He pulled back after a while, but only to smile giddily and say, “I love you,” again.

Dedue smiled down at him, and suddenly his arms wrapped around his thighs and lifted him easily into the air. Ashe yelped in surprise, but he started to laugh, putting his hands on Dedue’s shoulders and looking down at him. He felt so tender. Like the petals of a flower. Like the warmth of hot chocolate through a mug.

“I love you too,” Dedue said and tilted his head back so they could kiss again, this time more and more deeply, until they were both breathless. He just said it again. “I love you, Ashe.”

Ashe rubbed Dedue’s hair back from his face, tucked it behind his ear. “I love you, Dedue.” He was sure he could never get tired of saying it.

But then Dedue smiled, and the look was so sly it made him pause and squint at him suspiciously. He couldn’t help the smile spreading across his own face. “What are you smiling about?” he teased.

Dedue pecked his lips and whispered, “I thought perhaps I should… show you. How much I love you.”

Ashe raised his eyebrows at him, running fingers through his hair. “Mmm, make up for lost time?”

Dedue hummed back. “If it would please you, my love.”

Ashe decided he very much liked being called _ my love _. But he shook his head. “Dedue, you don’t have to--”

“I want to,” Dedue insisted.

When Ashe met his eyes, he could see just how much he wanted to, and it took his breath away. He bit his lip hard. It wasn’t as if they’d never… _ shown _each other before. He smiled, still worrying his lower lip between his teeth. It was so early in the morning, but he didn’t even care. “W-well…” he whispered. “By all means.”

Dedue grinned, and Ashe laughed as he was laid back on the bed, laughed when Dedue crawled over him and planted kisses all over his neck and shoulders. And if, by the time they were done, Ashe’s throat was sore from saying it--_ I love you _\--over and over, then well. He certainly didn’t mind.

* * *

“Ashe, you sound so hoarse, are you sick?” Ingrid asked as Ashe stepped out of the dorm room to greet her.

Dedue couldn’t help smiling at the way Ashe’s face turned red as a tomato. He laughed awkwardly, waved off her concern. Dedue turned back towards the mirror, making sure his tie was straight.

He’d been surprised when Dimitri asked him to be his best man; he’d nearly refused. It was a privilege he was sure should be reserved for someone worthier than him. But Dimitri insisted. He’d told him, _ Who could be worthier than the man who saved my life? _

He hadn’t known what to say to that. He’d known even less when Dimitri told him he’d repay the favor once Dedue’s wedding day came.

He glanced back over his shoulder at Ashe, laughing with Mercedes and Annette. He looked so handsome, his hair braided back and his suit finely tailored. Dedue knew it was likely the nicest clothing he owned--and the scarf Dedue made for him years before lay curled around his neck like a particularly cuddly cat.

Dedue loved him. It was so freeing to think it without any fear, freeing to say it whenever he liked.

“Hey, Dedue, you all done?”

Dedue turned to Sylvain, peeking his head through the door of their room, which had somehow become the chosen place for their friends to gather as they got ready for the wedding. The sun was just above the horizon, not quite setting yet. Dedue knew Dimitri had planned it that way, hoping to catch the warm oranges and reds through the stained glass ceiling of the cathedral.

He was quite the romantic, when he allowed himself to be.

“Yes,” Dedue said, taking one last look in the mirror before following Sylvain outside.

He smiled as everyone greeted him, Annette running in for a hug, Mercedes placing a gentle kiss to his cheek. Even Ingrid gave him a firm handshake. “It’s good to see you again,” she said.

Felix’s voice echoed down from the courtyard steps, “What are you all waiting for?” He stood with his arms crossed, clearly disgusted at their loitering. “At least the wedding party should be ready to go.”

Sylvain grimaced but Ingrid stood straighter and brushed her hands down her dress. She whipped around to Mercedes and Annette. “How’s my makeup?”

They both gave her enthusiastic thumbs up, and she grinned back, hurrying to catch up as Dedue and Sylvain followed Felix towards the cathedral.

They’d had a day or two to rehearse the event, and each time he returned to Ashe at the end of the day, he fell even more deeply in love. _ One day _ , he thought each time, _ they will be rehearsing to greet you down the aisle. _

Sylvain clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Are you excited?” he asked, shaking him--well, as much as he could, given how sturdy Dedue was compared to him.

Dedue nodded. He hadn’t expected to be so excited. He still wasn’t sure he was worthy to be at Dimitri’s side, wasn’t sure he could compare to all of Dimitri’s dear childhood friends.

But that didn’t matter. What mattered was that he was there. And he didn’t feel alone. Deep down, maybe he could even admit to himself that it didn’t feel wrong to be there.

They all took their places. Dimitri stood before the organ, dressed in a white suit, his Crest embroidered on the lapel. Dedue stood beside him, laying a reassuring hand on his shoulder when he saw him tremble. Dimitri looked back at him and smiled, tears welling in his eyes.

When Byleth finally came through the doors, the wedding march playing so loudly behind him that Dedue could hear nothing but it, his eyes flickered over to Ashe.

Byleth looked so beautiful, and Dimitri’s overwhelmed expression was just as breathtaking, but Dedue looked at Ashe. Studied the way his face lit up, the shine of tears in his beautiful green eyes. And when Ashe’s eyes flickered over and met his, Dedue just smiled and waved. Ashe smiled and waved back, his cheeks going red with a blush.

Seteth officiated, his commanding voice ringing out over the crowd, and Dedue heard Sylvain openly sobbing behind him. He reached back to pat his arm, a reassuring smile on his face. Sylvain blubbered a thanks and grinned back.

Dedue honestly couldn’t remember all of the details. The intimate vows, the pride in Seteth’s voice as he spoke about the good Byleth and Dimitri had done for Fodlan. The exchange of rings, glinting in the light of the setting sun. It all blurred together in one long, warm feeling.

“By the power vested in me by the Goddess Sothis herself,” Seteth finally said, “I now pronounce you husband and wife. Your Majesty, you may kiss your bride.”

Sylvain let out an ugly sob, and Dimitri wasted no time. He took Byleth’s face in his big hands and kissed her as if he hadn’t kissed her in a million years.

A cheer roared through the crowd, and even Dedue cheered, clapping as Dimitri and Byleth took each other’s hands and hurried down the aisle together, laughing delightedly all the way.

The reception that followed reminded Dedue somehow of the White Heron Ball, when they were students. He stood to the side, eyes trailing over the dance floor. Sylvain still hadn’t stopped crying his happy tears, but instead of teasing him, Felix patted his shoulder and smiled.

Mercedes and Annette stood among the crowd of women that lined up as Byleth threw her bouquet. It arced through the air and into Mercedes’s chest, and she lit up like a star as Annette grabbed her into an impossibly tight hug.

Ingrid danced by herself, free and grinning, and Dedue noted she wasn’t wearing uncomfortable shoes this time.

It surprised Dedue how much he remembered from that night. It was as if it had all imprinted on his mind. The bite of the cool night air, the moonlight, the cathedral, the Goddess Tower--and Ashe.

He stood by himself, smiling at everyone as well, and when Dedue walked up to him, he smiled up at him. “Dedue,” he hummed. He turned to face him, reaching up to run a hand down the lapel of his jacket. “You look handsome.”

“As do you,” he replied, reaching up to trace a fingertip along the braid in his hair. It had grown loose from dancing with their friends, but Ashe’s hair was so soft anyway. Dedue cupped a curl in his palm, running his thumb along it. Ashe smiled sweetly. “You’re beautiful.”

Ashe blushed and looked away, hunching his shoulders. “Thank you…”

He and Dedue took each other’s hands, looking out at the dancers again. Dimitri cradled Byleth close to his chest, unwilling to let go for anything. The sight somehow made the little wooden box in Dedue’s pocket suddenly burn in his mind. He’d promised he would ask before they had to leave the monastery.

He squeezed Ashe’s hand and suddenly whispered, “Would you like to get some air?”

He looked down as Ashe looked up. Ashe blinked at him for a moment, and then smiled sweetly. “I’d like that.”

Dedue led him outside. Only a few people milled about, leaning against the railing of the bridge, dancing in the light of the moon. It wasn’t quite as cold outside as it had been the night of the ball so long ago, but nevertheless, Dedue was grateful for the warmth of Ashe’s hand in his.

They walked through the cathedral doors, and Ashe wriggled his hand out of Dedue’s so that he could lean against his side instead. Dedue wrapped his arm firmly around his shoulder. They looked up at the stained glass ceiling together, the moonlight shining down on them. Dedue wondered if it were here he should do it. The place where he’d first realized he thought Ashe was beautiful, when he’d first allowed Ashe to nestle against his heart, unwitting.

But no… he had a better idea.

“Come with me,” he said, guiding Ashe out the side door and towards the Goddess Tower that still rose high above them all.

Ashe laughed as they neared it, leaving Dedue’s side so he could test the lock. “Mmm, don’t worry, I can do it,” he said, waving his hand. He knelt, pulling a pin from his braid and wriggling it around in the lock until it clicked open. When he looked up at Dedue, he winked, and Dedue laughed. Ashe rose to his feet and brushed off his pants. “Guess I’ve still got it.” He made a face. “Don’t know if I should be proud of that or not.”

Dedue just took his face in his hands and kissed him.

Ashe smiled against his lips. They opened the door and went up the spiraling staircase. Dedue remembered all these steps hadn’t always made his back ache, but as they made it to the top, the familiar cool dark room made it all worth it.

He took Ashe in his arms, cradled him close as they kissed again. Ashe’s arms around his neck, his slight hips against his hands. He thought he could live like this. Live in this moment.

But before long, Ashe pecked his nose and turned away, looking out the window. The monastery wasn’t quite back to its former glory, but it looked more beautiful in a way. The old walls were gone, and now beyond the edge of the monastery, they could make out forests and fields as far as the eye could see. Ashe sat on the sill, looking for all intents like a princess from one of those books he liked to read out loud to Dedue. "You know, I thought I didn't want to come back here," he admitted quietly. "But I missed this view."

Dedue nodded, watching him, his hands trembling. "This place... is peaceful for me too."

Ashe smiled at him, his eyes sparkling before he looked back out the window, back up at the stars he resembled. "We made our promise here."

They had. Dedue remembered it so fondly. Remembered how vulnerable and safe he felt in Ashe's arms.

Was he really going to do this? They’d only officially declared their love for each other a few days before. What if Ashe thought it was too fast? What if Ashe didn't want to be married?

But then he remembered meeting Ashe’s gaze during the wedding ceremony.

He took out the box. Dimitri had coached him on Fodlan tradition. He’d explained how he was expected to kneel, present the ring. It was a simple woven silver band, a single diamond at the center. _ Elegant _, Dimitri had called it, and it was.

Dedue was so nervous. This wasn’t the way he’d been taught to propose, but he wanted to, for Ashe.

So he took a few steps closer and held the box in both hands and knelt to one knee. “Ashe.”

Ashe turned his head to him, and his eyes went so wide at the sight of him that Dedue almost rose to his feet again. He opened the box, and Ashe’s mouth fell open in shock. “Dedue,” he breathed, staring at the ring presented to him. His eyes sparkled, and he smiled. “Are you proposing to me?”

Dedue felt wobbly in every sense of the word. As if he were liable to fall apart at the slightest breeze. “Yes,” he whispered.

Ashe rose to his feet and walked over to stand in front of him. Dedue swallowed hard. “In Duscur, proposals are very different,” he told Ashe. “They’re… Big, passionate affairs. We would invite both of our families to witness it.” He felt his eyes burn with tears. He shed them without fear or hesitation. Ashe’s hand reached down to cup his cheek, and he smiled. “I don’t have a family anymore,” he whispered. “But I would be… honored. To be a part of yours.”

Ashe’s face was covered in tears too, sparkling in the moonlight coming in from the window. And somehow Dedue thought he was all the more beautiful for them. He stroked Dedue’s cheek with his gentle touch. “Oh Dedue… you already are.”

Dedue couldn’t describe just how much those words meant to him. He barely stopped himself from sobbing. And when Ashe knelt before him, and wrapped his arms around his neck, he couldn’t stop himself from burying his face against his shoulder.

Ashe laughed, a giddy sound, leaning back and taking Dedue’s hands in his so he could look at the ring. He laughed again, incredulous. “You really got a ring and everything.”

“Would… would you like to wear it?”

Ashe grinned up at him, nodding as tears dripped down his cheeks. Dedue plucked it from its bed of velvet and lifted Ashe’s hand, gently slipped the ring into place. Ashe stared at it as if he couldn’t believe it was real. He wiggled his fingers and laughed and laughed, and then he threw himself at Dedue, kissing him breathless.

They laughed between kisses, collapsed in a heap on the floor, holding each other tight. At length, Ashe pulled back and said, "We should do it the Duscur way too. The proposal." He smiled so sweetly that it made Dedue want to cry. "We could invite our friends. I'm sure Angie and Alie would love it." He leaned down, kissed him so gently. "I want to do that with you."

“Ashe,” Dedue breathed, leaning his head back to look at Ashe grinning down at him. He couldn't imagine sharing his culture like that, with everyone. The thought of it terrified him, but it also comforted him. That Ashe wanted it. He smiled shakily and stroked Ashe's hair. “I'd like that so much... Gods, I never want to be without you.”

Ashe's expression softened, his grin falling to a gentle smile. He leaned down to press another firm kiss against his mouth. “You never will. I promise. _We_ promised.” He laid his head lightly against Dedue’s chest. “Forever. Nothing will change that.”

And Dedue believed it. Whether the Goddess listened--whether his own gods had any mercy. Whether they were far apart or together this way for the rest of their lives. Nothing could change the way he felt with Ashe in his arms.

He felt happy. He felt safe.

He felt like he was home.

**Author's Note:**

> THIS. REALLY TOOK FOREVER. I'm super nervous, I hope everyone likes it ;;;;;;;;;;; It's a bit different from the other two, but I really got a lot in my feels about both of them having lost their family and like?? Getting to be each other's family??? They're so sof? Also Ashe's siblings are the best, I stan them.
> 
> I've been working on this on and off since I finished the third part, but I got a new job which has been kind of exhausting lol. I'm sorry I've been missing for the tag for like ever XD I've got plenty of stuff planned tho, so this will not be the last you hear from me >=D
> 
> Anyway, if you enjoy, please leave a comment (or kudos) because that's what I feed off of XD Also if you ever wanna hit me up and gush about Three Houses, my twitter is @novelistangel23 and I'm always excited to make friends~ Thank you for reading as always! (Also this version of Superposition is absolutely the theme of this part *eye emojis* https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cz-syZ0QZMw)


End file.
